


For Terrasen

by wingsofanillyrian



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, F/M, post eos, there may be more parts? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofanillyrian/pseuds/wingsofanillyrian
Summary: Rowan searches for his wife after she's taken prisoner but Maeve.





	For Terrasen

It had been twenty years since Rowan’s ‘wife’ had died. For thirty-two years, Lysandra had played the part of Aelin Ashryver Galathynius perfectly. She had fooled everyone; not a single soul outside their trusted court knew of the deception.

And the act had taken its toll on everyone. Aedion was a changed man, hardened by the secrets they all kept from their people. Lysandra wore a mask of happiness, but would break down each night in Aedion’s arms.

“For the good of Terrasen,” Rowan would remind them. “For Aelin.”

When it became too much for her to bear, they staged the queen’s death. The court played the part perfectly, mourning as if Aelin was truly gone. Lysandra had finally given up hope of ever seeing Aelin alive again, as had Aedion. The two of them truly grieved the loss of their friend.

But Rowan… He refused to give up hope. He barely slept, ate, or did anything apart from his courtly duties as king and hunt for his wife. He could never search for more than a few weeks at a time, however, lest people start asking questions. The façade of his queen’s death had to be maintained at all costs.

But he knew, in the very marrow of his bones, that his Fireheart lived.

So he followed rumors of Maeve’s schemes to the edges of the continent, but always ended up chasing a trail of smoke. Of course, no one else knew that she held the true queen as her prisoner. Rowan was certain that she would never let Aelin out of her sight, and therefore finding Maeve meant finding his mate. And he knew that was part of Maeve’s plan. Allow herself to be seen, force him to investigate dead end after dead end for years, wear him down, and  _strike._

But how could he not follow up on every possible lead regarding his wife? It was torture, seeing her face each day for so many years but knowing that it wasn’t really her, knowing that she was being held captive by his former master, forced to do unspeakable things.

He played along, chasing Maeve’s trail of lies, praying that one day it wouldn’t be a rumor he was following.

***********

The Bogdano jungle was sweltering. Thick, unforgiving foliage made his progress slow, even with adrenaline pumping through his system. Flies swarmed around Rowan’s head, the buzzing of their wings threatening to drive him to the brink of insanity. He swatted them away with a sweat soaked arm, taking a small swig from the canteen he carried.

He had been slicing and fighting his way through the jungle for three days. A Terrasen merchant had told Rowan he’d seen Maeve’s entourage in the Deserted Lands, leaving a trail of wildfire in it’s wake. Rowan laughed at him, accusing him of telling tales. But he insisted, saying he had seen it with his own eyes: a golden-haired beauty with fire dancing at her fingertips, controlled by Maeve.

Immediately, Rowan flew to the merchant’s crossroads at the entrance of the Singing Sands, inquiring after the Fae queen. A guard had sent him back in the direction of the jungle, giving him an extra canteen of water and words of luck.

Just after high noon, Rowan stumbled into a clearing. He blinked against the harsh sunlight streaming through the gaps in the charred canopy, taking in the scene around him.

The ground was black. Trees and grass had been burned away in a perfect circle, some 30 paces wide. Odd, that such a densely wooded area would not ignite instantly, creating a raging inferno that would destroy miles of jungle. But then again, Rowan knew this wasn’t caused by any rogue wildfire.

It was Aelin.

Smoke rose from the chimney of a small mud hut, situated just outside the sooty ring of earth. The smell of roasting meat caused his stomach to rumble, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since entering the jungle.

Conscious of his intimidating appearance, he softened his face and ran a hand through his dyed brown hair before walking towards the quaint hut. The hair was a precaution against unwanted eyes, as was smearing mud over most of his tattoos. He was met halfway by a tall, thin man who wore a slew of colored feathers around his throat.

“Welcome,” he said, muddy brown eyes crinkling as he smiled and spread his arms wide in greeting, “My name is Brumen, and this is my home. What brings a Fae warrior here?”

Rowan stiffened, immediately on his guard. Over the years, he had gotten better at blending in. But he usually hid in crowds, or kept to the shadows.

Here, he could do neither. “I’m searching for someone.”

The man tilted his head to the side, considering, “Many pass through here looking for rest, most of whom do not wish to be found. Come inside, you must be hungry.” The man turned away, taking the roast bird off the fire. Impatiently, he gestured for Rowan to follow him inside.

The hut was much larger than it had appeared from the outside. A large wooden table was surrounded by six chairs, and was the centerpiece of the main room. He could see two doorways draped with tattered cloth, probably leading to bedrooms. Sniffing, Rowan detected garlic and a few spices, along with the scent of roasted meat.

“Come, sit.” The stranger set two plates at the table, carving the roast and heaping half of it onto a plate for Rowan. He slid into a seat, cautiously picking at the roast, only eating after the man did. He regarded Rowan with unrestrained curiosity, as if putting together the pieces of a puzzle.

A glimmer of recognition flashed in Brumen’s eyes. “You seek Aelin of the Wildfire.”

Time stopped. How had he known? He had been so careful to hide his appearance, guarding his missions from anyone outside the court. No one had ever recognized him before.

Blood roared in his ears as he set down his fork. “What do you know of her.” Brumen let out a sharp breath, peering past Rowan to the entryway.

“She did that-“ he jutted his chin in the direction of the clearing- “to my village. Leveled it to the ground- save for this single hut. As I’m sure you have already guessed.

“My people were sleeping when they came. I was gone, off hunting by myself. When I came home… Not a single person remained alive.”

Rowan’s face went slack. “Maeve forced her to, then?” His Fireheart would never harm innocents, never in a thousand years.

Brumen nodded. “I do not think she would have done such a thing willingly.”

“No, she wouldn’t have,” Rowan rasped, clenching his fists. “Did you see her? See which way they headed?” Brumen shook his head.

“I think the Aelin you knew is gone, Rowan. I don’t think there is a shred of humanity left in her.”

He knew he should deny it. But he had seen what Maeve liked to do to her pets. Drain them completely, make them watch while they are forced to become what they fear most. And for Aelin, that was to become a monster. His tattooed jaw clenched, fighting to keep his emotions in check.

“I must find her. I can’t let that bitch control her forever.” His eyes snapped to Brumen, his resolve taking on a fiery intensity. Aelin was his  _mate._ He would know if she were gone, he would have been able to feel it. The thread connecting their souls had become dusty with disuse, but it wasn’t frayed entirely.

He knew what he had to do. Aelin wouldn’t want to live, knowing what she had been forced to do. Rowan wouldn’t be able to console her, nor would he deny her wishes.

Brumen read the grief on Rowan’s face and handed him a satchel of supplies, as if he knew Rowan would ask for them. “Best of luck, prince. I pray I am wrong, but I know you will do what needs to be done.”

Rowan nodded. “I will.”

He would go on, as he had the past fifty-two years, knowing that he gave Aelin this one last gift. He would continue her legacy through himself.

For Terrasen.

For Aelin.


End file.
